


I Would Hate You If I Could

by todxrxki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Exes to Lovers, M/M, Weddings, kind of like enemies to lovers, kuroken as exes, lots of sappy bokuaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29030199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todxrxki/pseuds/todxrxki
Summary: Kenma’s head is spinning too much at this rare display of something like affection from Akaashi for him to really process what exactly Akaashi is saying. He hears that Bokuto will be selecting his own best man, but he doesn’t think too much into it. In retrospect, he definitely should have."Yeah,” Kenma manages, and barely recognizes the sound of his own shaky voice. “Yeah, of course.”And, with those words, Kozume Kenma signs off on his own death certificate. / In which ex-boyfriends Kenma and Kuroo are Akaashi and Bokuto's best men.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 451
Collections: Kuroken Christmas Exchange 2020, Recommended KuroKen Fics, stories that touched me





	I Would Hate You If I Could

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LunaMoon_28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaMoon_28/gifts).



“You’re engaged,” Kenma says, and the words echo dully down the line.

Logically, he knows he should be happy for Akaashi. He’s certain that, were it the other way around, Akaashi would be happy for him. The thing is though, that it isn’t the other way around, and it quite possibly never will be.

Kenma swallows hard as the too-familiar lump rises in his throat. “Congratulations,” he manages, and then, to try to sound at least somewhat enthusiastic: “Seriously. That’s fantastic. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Kenma,” Akaashi says warmly. Kenma furrows his eyebrows in suspicion. Akaashi, unwavering believer in politeness and formality, scarcely calls Kenma by his given name with honorifics. That is, unless he wants something. Kenma waits for a second with bated breath until Akaashi finally says, “I have a request for you, by the way.”   
  


_ There it is.  _ Kenma holds his breath. “All right, then. What is it?” 

It’s silent on the other side for a moment before Akaashi quickly says, “I want you to be my best man.”

Kenma finds himself at a complete loss for words. He sits in shock for a minute before he realizes that Akaashi is probably expecting a response. “Y-you… me?” is all he can get out, like a complete idiot. 

“Yes,” Akaashi says firmly. “You. Over the past few years, you have become my closest confidante— well, aside from Bokuto-san, of course.” Kenma can’t help but chuckle internally at the fact that Akaashi still refers to his fiance with honorifics. “Therefore, I cannot think of anyone else I would rather have by my side during this pivotal moment in my life. Bokuto-san will, of course, have his own best man, but I wanted you to be mine.”

Kenma’s head is spinning too much at this rare display of something like affection from Akaashi for him to really process what exactly Akaashi is saying. He hears that Bokuto will be selecting his own best man, but he doesn’t think too much into it.

In retrospect, he definitely should have.

“Well?” Akaashi prods him after a moment. “What do you say?”

“Yeah,” Kenma manages, and barely recognizes the sound of his own shaky voice. “Yeah, of course.”

And, with those words, Kozume Kenma signs off on his own death certificate.

.

Kenma glances down at the GPS on his phone. It says that the wedding planner’s store is just a couple of meters ahead. He scans the shops on the street until his eyes finally fall upon the correct one. Digging his fingernails into his palm, he enters the store. 

The only one there is Akaashi, who is waiting on a couch in the lobby. He gives Kenma a gracious smile as Kenma walks in. “Kenma-kun. I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah,” Kenma says. “Where’s Bokuto-san?”

“On the way,” Akaashi replies. “He went to pick up his best man and the two of them ran into a bit of trouble as usual, but the two of them should be here soon.”

There’s something about the way Akaashi says  _ as usual  _ that drives a pit of uneasiness into the bottom of Kenma’s stomach. It sounds as though Bokuto’s best man is someone Kenma should know. He’s about to ask, “Wait, who is his best man, actually?” when the door bursts open to a chorus of “HEY, HEY, HEY!” and Kenma is suddenly struck by a wave of nausea. 

Because the person next to Bokuto is someone that Kenma would’ve been perfectly content never seeing again. It’s someone that Kenma has been purposely trying to avoid for the better part of a year now, in fact. 

His eyes fall upon Kenma and immediately get significantly wider, his jaw dropping.  _ He hadn’t known I was going to be here,  _ Kenma thinks, and then hates that he can still read the other man this well. 

Neither of them move for a minute. 

Finally, Bokuto breaks the silence. “Kuroo, man, what’s your problem? We were supposed to burst into our dance routine after walkin’ in to serenade Agaaashi, remember?”

Kuroo Tetsurou whirls on Bokuto, his glare icy. “You didn’t tell me _ he  _ was going to be here,” he hisses to Bokuto.

“I can still hear you, you know,” Kenma says dryly. “And I didn’t know you were going to be here, or I would never have come.” He turns to Akaashi, mimicking Kuroo’s glare. “You neglected to mention that he’s Bokuto’s best man, huh?”

“The topic never came up,” Akaashi says guiltily. 

“Never came up, my ass,” Kenma gripes. “I’m out of here. You can find a new best man or whatever.” Kenma turns on his heel and, like the main character of one of his visual novel games, strides out of the building. 

Unfortunately, even though Akaashi has been working a sedentary job for the past few years, he still works out in his free time. So it takes him less than a minute to catch up to Kenma. 

“Hang on,” Akaashi says, his voice breathy. “You’re just going to leave me without a best man?”

“You knew that I wouldn’t want to do it if I knew he was the other best man,” Kenma accuses. “You  _ knew,  _ and that’s why you conveniently forgot to mention it.”

“Well, yes,” Akaashi admits, and Kenma turns back around to dramatically storm off some more in order to emphasize to Akaashi just how big of a transgression this is. “But! But that is simply because I really wanted you to be a part of this. I cannot imagine this day without you. I value your input highly, and…” He breathes out. “And I will do my best to ensure that you interact with him as little as possible. Furthermore, after the wedding and the honeymoon, I will treat you to a day of pie and video games. All day long.” 

Kenma hesitates in his step.  _ Shit.  _ The problem is that Akaashi is nearly as skilled as he is at reading people—and he’s also particularly good at reading Kenma. And the day that Akaashi has described to him sounds like a dream. 

Besides, if Akaashi and Bokuto are there as buffers, it can’t be  _ that  _ bad, can it? And, well, he does want to be there for Akaashi, especially given that Akaashi wants him to be there that badly. With a sigh, Kenma finally relents. “Fine. Whatever.”

He prays that he’s not making a bad decision here. 

.

It becomes very obvious within minutes of arriving back at the wedding planner’s office that he most definitely is.

Kuroo is still  _ Kuroo.  _ Kenma’s not sure what he’d expected, exactly, but he hates every second of it. He hates Kuroo’s laugh, loud and obnoxious. He hates Kuroo’s little smiles that used to be directed at him. He hates when Kuroo makes little comments under his breath, because even though he can’t fully hear them he  _ knows  _ what Kuroo’s saying. He hates being so close to Kuroo, and yet being so far away. 

Most of all, he hates that he’d imagined this scenario almost a hundred times during their relationship—the two of them at the wedding planner’s together. He’d always envisioned that he and Kuroo would be the ones getting married, though. 

It stings that they aren’t, that they never will be. 

“What kind of cake do you think, Kenma-kun?” Akaashi says, finally drawing Kenma’s attention away from the angry and upset thoughts in his own head. He turns to the book on the table, scanning the page for the types of cake.

“Kenma’s not really a cake person,” someone says before Kenma himself can even answer. Kenma turns around to see Kuroo smirking over his shoulder, looking entirely too self-satisfied. Kenma’s chest immediately blossoms with anger, but Kuroo’s not wrong, so it’s not as though Kenma can actually refute him. 

Still, Kenma desperately wants to. So he says, “Actually, strawberry cake is pretty good. Like this one here, Keiji.” He motions to a cake in the book, and glances up to see the stupid smirk has been wiped off of Kuroo’s face.  _ Good. _

He’d still rather have pie, of course, but he’s also well-aware that this is Akaashi’s wedding and not his own. Not that there’s any real chance of him having his own at this point. 

He sits in silence as Akaashi and Bokuto launch into a discussion about the best flavor of cake and resolves himself to ignore Kuroo, who—God, it wasn’t even fair that Kuroo could look like  _ that  _ even after they’d broken up. 

Kenma hates himself for thinking like that. And he hates the fact that his chest aches with the knowledge that Kuroo is so close to him.

_ Ignore it,  _ he tells himself steadily. It’s all he can do. 

And so he tries.

.

“So I just wanted to talk to you about the bachelor party,” Akaashi says over the phone. “I believe it would be fun to have one with a few close friends. No strippers or anything like that. Probably just a few friends watching a movie or something of the sort. Of course, I will be helping you plan it, but I just wanted to let you know my ideas early on.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bachelor party,” Kenma says wryly. “More like your usual Saturday night. I think we should hire at least one exotic dancer.”

Even though Akaashi isn’t physically in front of him, Kenma can sense the heat of his glare. “Don’t you dare.” 

“Fine,” Kenma says. 

“And…” Akaashi hesitates, and judging by the tone of his voice, Kenma can tell this statement isn’t going anywhere good. “Well, I know you said that you did not want to work with Kuroo-san—“

“I don’t,” Kenma interrupts vehemently.

“But I think it would be good if you two could coordinate so perhaps the two parties could converge at some point during the night.” 

“You want  _ Bokuto-san  _ to come to your bachelor party? Keiji, I’m no expert, but even I know that’s not how it works.” 

“Please,” Akaashi says, his voice pleading, and Kenma quietly curses Kuroo for ever convincing him to  _ make friends.  _ Somehow in the end, all of his problems come back down to Kuroo. 

But there’s something in Akaashi’s tone of voice that makes him veritably impossible to say no to, so because Kenma is disgustingly weak or something, he gives in. “Fine,” he says. “Fine, whatever. I’ll do my best. But no promises.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi says solemnly, and Kenma hates it. 

. 

Typically, Kenma’s anxiety stems from fear of the unknown. He worries about what other people are thinking of him or what their next line in the conversation will be—things that Kenma cannot possibly know. However, his anxiety about speaking with Kuroo stems from a completely different source.

Kenma knows  _ exactly  _ what’s going to happen. He knows the airy way Kuroo will answer the phone, the teasing lilt he’ll keep during the entirety of their conversation as to not show any sign of weakness. He knows that Kuroo will litter tiny barbs directed at Kenma throughout the conversation. He knows how much every bit of the conversation will hurt. It’s more of a nervousness that comes from anticipation than a nervousness that comes from not knowing.

Still, Kenma inhales deeply and presses Kuroo’s number in his phone. Even after all this time, he’s never bothered to delete it. 

“Hello,” he says dully after Kuroo picks up. 

“You’ve decided to come crawling back to me, have you?” Kuroo says. “Well, I’m not surprised, but unfortunately—”

“Shut up,” Kenma interrupts before Kuroo’s annoying ass can get any further. “Keiji told me to call you. Said that we need to work together since we’re each planning a bachelor party and the lovebirds can’t be apart for even a single night, so they want us to combine at the end of the night or whatever.”

“Okay,” Kuroo says slowly. “So, what, you want me to hire the strippers?”

Kenma bites down on his lip to keep himself from laughing. The awful part about having known Kuroo as long as he has is that Kuroo has not forgotten how to make Kenma laugh. Their snarky senses of humor have always been too similar. “Keiji expressly forbade me from hiring strippers for his bachelor party, at least.”

“How boring,” Kuroo laments. “But fine. I guess we can work something out.” 

“Yeah,” Kenma replies, digging his fingernails into his palms.  _ Don’t think about it. Just focus on the bachelor party.  _

_ And most of all, do not get invested. Just get this over with, and then Kuroo will be out of your life all over again. _

He digs his nails into his palm harder. It stings. 

.

“I suppose I was just thinking of wearing a simple black suit,” Akaashi says, looking over at Kenma. “What do you think? Is that too simple? Will the color look okay on me? Will it compliment my eyes?”

Kenma picks at a loose thread on his nearly ten-year-old hoodie and stares dully at Akaashi. “What exactly told you it was a good idea to come to me for fashion advice?”

Akaashi sighs. “Black is timeless, right?”

“I suppose so,” Kenma replies. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out to see  _ 1 New Message from Kuro  _ on the screen. God, that’s a notification he hasn’t seen in a while.

Akaashi, ever too observant, asks, “Is everything all right?” 

“Yeah,” Kenma says. “It’s, uh, it’s Kuroo. I guess he’s just texting to ask a question about the bachelor party.” He slides open the message to see that Kuroo has sent a picture of dick lollipops. _ You should bring these to Akaashi’s bachelor party,  _ he’d said.  _ I’d pay to see his reaction to that. _

A snort slips out before Kenma can stop it. “You look awfully happy to be texting Kuroo-san,” Akaashi says suspiciously.

“It’s not like that,” Kenma replies. “He just sent a funny idea for the bachelor party, that’s all.” Quickly, he types out a response:  _ i’m tempted but also i think keiji might actually kill me.  _

“Still,” Akaashi says, his searching eyes still trained on Kenma. “It’s nice to see you two getting along again.”

Kenma narrows his eyes. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he warns.   
  


“I won’t,” Akaashi says, but something in the tilt of Akaashi’s mouth tells Kenma he already has. “Anyways, what do you think about the tie? Bowtie or traditional tie? Black or colorful?” Kenma takes it as a welcome distraction, and decides to think no more on the subject. 

.

“We need your help with the guest list,” Bokuto says, leaning over the table towards Kenma and the man he’s most unfortunately seated next to at the moment, Kuroo Tetsurou. Akaashi had promised to treat Kenma to lunch and pie if Kenma would help him with something wedding-related. He had, however, neglected to mention that Bokuto and Kuroo would be joining them.

Akaashi sighs. “Bokuto wants to invite half the population of Tokyo and a good portion of Miyagi as well.”

“Not half the population, Akaashi, that’s an exaggeration!” He tilts his head over at Akaashi as if to ask if he’d used that word correctly, and when Akaashi nods, he continues. “We have to invite the old Fukurodani team, of course, and the coaches! And then we have to invite the cool people we were classmates with. And then I have to invite all of MSBY, and all of the national team, and of course both of our families, and my sisters’ partners, and one of my sisters has three kids! Oh, and I don’t want to leave out people like old Daichi from Karasuno, and—”

“Do you see the problem?” Akaashi grumbles. “I’d rather not have five hundred guests at our wedding, and neither of our wallets would agree with your little proposition either. You might be a pro player, but I don’t think you have millions in spare change.”

“Akaaaashi,” Bokuto says, sounding scandalized. “You don’t think I could be a millionaire?”

“Could be, absolutely. But I’ve seen your bank account,  _ dear. _ ”

“You could cut the guest list by one if you limited it to one best man,” Kenma points out.

“Ah, real mature,” Kuroo says with a fake smile. “But I agree. Though I’d beg you two to remember which one of us was there to help Bokuto figure out how to—“

“Enough already,” Akaashi cuts in exasperatedly. “We aren’t cutting any best men. Both of you are in the wedding. We just need you to help us prioritize.”

“Fine,” Kenma says. “Then I’d say you should cut out anyone you haven’t spoken to in the past year, even if you had a warm... acquaintanceship with them in the past.”

“All of them?” Bokuto wails. “Even that one guy from Karasuno?”

“Bokuto-san, if you can’t even remember his name, I don’t think you should be inviting him,” Kenma replies. 

Bokuto turns his pleading eyes onto Kuroo, who throws up his hands. “Hey, dude, don’t look at me. I think Kenma’s got a point on this one.”

_ I don’t need you to stick up for me,  _ Kenma wants to say, but the words fall flat before they leave his mouth. He swallows them down instead. 

“Let’s limit it to 150 or so,” Kuroo says. It’s an outrageous amount still in Kenma’s eyes, but it seems to placate Bokuto for now at least, because Bokuto returns to scribbling down unintelligible names on a piece of paper. Kuroo meets Kenma’s eyes for just a moment, and Kenma thinks he sees something there in the depth of Kuroo’s eyes. 

But then Bokuto’s saying, “But wait, does it count if I knew their name and forgot it?” and the moment is broken. Kuroo turns back to Bokuto, forcibly scribbling out someone’s name while Akaashi just shakes his head. 

_ Hopeless,  _ Kenma thinks, and wishes Akaashi good luck in the safety of his own mind.

.

“You don’t have to walk with me,” Kenma says stubbornly. The evening’s chilly wind blows the strands of hair that escape from his ponytail into his face, and he thinks he sees Kuroo’s hand twitch by his side, which is weird. Determinedly, Kenma pushes his hair back behind his ear. 

“I’ve known you most of your life,” Kuroo says, clenching his hand into a fist. “I know how much of a distracted walker you are. Left to your own devices, you’re liable to fall into a pit.”

“First, I hate when you talk like that,” Kenma says, his chest tightening all of a sudden, “and second, don’t talk like you know me.”

Kuroo smirks an annoying smirk. “I’d wager to say that I do.”

“You did,” Kenma says. “You knew me before, that much is true. But you knew the me of a year ago. You don’t know this me. You probably never will.”

The words hang in the air between them for a moment. Kuroo opens his mouth. “Kenma, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Anything Kuroo wants to say now should’ve been said a year ago, when Kenma walked out the door, praying to some nonexistent god that Kuroo would stop him.

It’s far too late for that now. 

“Okay,” Kuroo says. “So, uh, how’s the company doing?”

“It’s been going fine,” Kenma says. “The new intern is kind of a dumbass, though. He finds a way to mess up even the most simple of tasks.” 

“Ah, well. You should be used to that, huh? You had two years of dealing with Lev on your team.”

Kenma shudders. He likes Lev well enough now, now that he doesn’t have to deal with Lev in any kind of a leadership role, but dealing with Lev in a position of authority had been a nightmare. “I can’t believe you left me to deal with Lev on my own after you graduated.”

“What, did you want me to repeat third year so I could stick around Nekoma?”

“It would’ve been nice,” Kenma grumbles, and Kuroo chuckles. A familiar silence encases the atmosphere around them. It’s too reminiscent of the times they’d walk home from school together, sometimes talking—about their team members, about other teams, about the most powerful video game character, about the meaning of life—but sometimes completely silent, and it had never been awkward. Kenma had always appreciated that about Kuroo, how Kuroo respected his need for occasional silences. 

He hates it now. The silence between them feels too thick. 

They approach the metro station, and Kenma turns around to frown at Kuroo. “I can make it onto the metro by myself, you know.” 

“I know you can,” Kuroo says. He stands there for a moment, though, until Kenma clears his throat and Kuroo sighs. “Okay, fine, fine, I’ll head out. I’ll see you at the bachelor party then, I guess?”

“Don’t hire any strippers,” Kenma mutters under his breath.

“No promises,” Kuroo says cheerily. “You know, I heard about this famous performer that does this roleplay as a cowboy and he works a lasso into his performance, though…”

Kenma glares at him. Kuroo walks away cackling, his loud, obnoxious cackle that Kenma hates so much, and yet it’s the same cackle that does stupid things to Kenma’s heart. 

He turns away, his heart pounding in his chest and his cheeks weirdly warm, and curses himself. The problem, Kenma thinks, is that Kuroo’s just too  _ close.  _ Once this whole stupid wedding thing is over and Kuroo is out of his life, any ‘feelings’ that Kenma’s resurfacing will go away.

That’s it, Kenma tells himself. It has to be.

.

Kenma dreads the bachelor party like he dreads the first day of school after a long break. He dreads being in an enclosed area with a decent amount of people, most of whom he’s only spoken to once or twice, if that. He dreads the night’s activities—the ones that Kuroo has planned, at least. Most of all, though, he dreads being around Kuroo for the entire night, especially when there will be alcohol present.

The first part of the night, though, is mercifully alcohol (and Kuroo) free. Kenma had managed to pull some strings to procure some of Onigiri Miya’s onigiri. He finds himself a little bit concerned when Akaashi looks like he’s about to burst into tears, but thankfully Ennoshita steps in. Kenma gets the impression that Ennoshita has had to deal with much worse in his career as a captain of Karasuno.

But they have a pleasant first half of the evening, eating and drinking tea and swapping embarrassing stories about Akaashi, who tries to pretend he has no idea what they are talking about. It’s almost within Kenma’s comfort zone.

However, after an hour and a half, Kuroo Tetsurou bursts through the door with Bokuto leaning on his shoulder and a dopey grin on his face that Kenma knows all too well. He’s very intoxicated, Kenma knows. 

“What’s goin’ on in here?” Bokuto slurs. “C’mon, it’s party time! Put on some music!” 

Kenma grabs the booze out of some guy’s hands before it’s even offered to him. He’s going to need some kind of assistance to get through the rest of this night, he figures. 

Somehow, Kuroo and Bokuto hook up Akaashi’s laptop to a projector so they can start doing karaoke. It’s something out of Kenma’s worst nightmares, Kenma thinks. He hopes that if he leans back enough he’ll be able to melt into the floor. God, he should’ve brought earplugs. He takes another big swig of his drink and makes a face.  _ Shit.  _ This probably isn’t meant to be drunk straight, especially considering that Kenma is a major lightweight. The room is already starting to spin.  _ Fuck.  _

“You okay?” comes a voice, soft and familiar. 

“Fine,” Kenma forces out, attempting to put on his most sober-appearing face. “Thought you were doin’ karaoke.”

“Bokuto’s serenadin’ Akaashi now,” Kuroo says, leaning back against the wall. “Don’t really wanna get involved in that. Ugh—don’t look.” Kenma, out of pure curiosity and under the influence of alcohol immediately looks, though, and finds that Bokuto is seated on Akaashi’s lap, their faces far too close. Kuroo groans dramatically. “What has been seen cannot be unseen.”

“Drama queen,” Kenma says, nudging him in the side. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo replies. He glances over at Kenma, though, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay? You look kind of…”

“Why do you care?” Kenma bites out, and then, realizing how defensive it sounds: “You don’t have to watch out for me anymore, Mother Kuroo. You’re free of that obligation. Go, mix with the rest of this crowd or whatever.” 

“I didn’t do it out of obligation,” Kuroo responds. Kenma knows that Kuroo is not exactly sober himself, but even given that, there’s an undertone of honesty in Kuroo’s words that takes Kenma off-guard. His throat feels dry all of a sudden. He desperately needs to drink more. Thankfully, Kuroo changes the subject. “Can’t believe these lovebirds can’t stand to be separated for more than an hour. It’s disgusting.”

“Definitely,” Kenma agrees, but maybe it’s the alcohol that makes him too honest or the underlying emotions that keep surging through him, but he adds, “It’s kind of cute how much they care about each other, though.” 

Kenma’s expecting one of Kuroo’s snarky remarks, a  _ “what, did you hit your head?”  _ or a “ _ wow, you really are drunk.” _ Instead, Kuroo’s absolutely deadly silent beside him. Kenma turns his head to see a stricken expression on Kuroo’s face. He looks like he can’t quite comprehend what Kenma’s just said to him. It’s an expression that sends a chill down Kenma’s spine. 

Kenma swallows. A strange chill runs down his spine. “Uh, ‘m gonna go get another drink,” he says, and wonders what’s wrong with him.

Actually, though, he doesn’t have to wonder. He knows, he thinks as he feels Kuroo’s hot eyes on his back.

Kenma is never going to be able to really get over Kuroo Tetsurou, and he hates him for it.

.

He doesn’t text Kuroo at all in the days leading up to the wedding. Kuroo doesn’t text him either. Now that the bachelor party is over, there’s no real reason for the two of them to communicate. It stings, but Kenma tells himself he should’ve seen this coming. They’d only talked for the express purpose of planning the bachelor party. They weren’t building up an actual relationship again. Why would they?

The day of the actual wedding arrives, and Kenma finds himself holding his breath as he approaches the building.  _ This is it,  _ he reminds himself. After today, he’ll be under no obligation to interact with Kuroo again, possibly ever.

But if it’s a good thing—which it is, it has to be—then why does it sting to think about?

“Are you nervous?” Kenma asks Akaashi as he helps Akaashi tie his bow tie.

“In a way,” Akaashi says, glancing at his own reflection in the mirror. “About the ceremony itself, yes. I’m hopeful that I will not mess anything up today and the day can be as perfect as he deserves. But about actually marrying Bokuto-san? No. Not at all. In fact, saying yes to him will be the easiest decision of my life.”

There’s an expression of pure peace and contentment on Akaashi’s face. Kenma envies it. He wishes he could be that sure about anything or anyone. 

Well, he had thought he was sure about someone, someone he’d figured would never leave his life. But look at how  _ that  _ had gone. 

Still, he tells Akaashi he’s happy for him—he is, really, or at least he’s trying to be—and gets himself ready to walk down the aisle.  _ You’re doing this for Akaashi,  _ he reminds himself.  _ For Akaashi. _

He meets Kuroo at the end of the aisle. Kuroo looks particularly handsome in a suit; he always had. Back when they were dating, it’d been one of Kenma’s major weaknesses. He pulls his train of thought away before he can get too carried away with old fantasies. Kuroo extends an arm to him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Kenma manages, and takes hold of Kuroo’s arm.

The heat exuding from Kuroo’s arm bleeds through into Kenma’s as they head down the aisle. It’s a familiar warmth, a familiar weight, reminding Kenma of nights spent with Kuroo’s arm slung heavy over his waist and afternoons walking down the street with Kuroo’s arm draped around his shoulder. He bites down on his lip to try to shove the memories out of his head. 

They make their way down the aisle, both steadfastly looking anywhere else to avoid looking at the other, though it is impossible to forget about Kuroo’s presence when he’s  _ right there,  _ too close and still somehow not close enough. Everyone’s eyes are on them. Kenma wonders what they must be thinking.  _ God, shit, wait, that’s a lot of eyes on him.  _ Kenma’s breath catches in his throat. 

But then there’s a light squeeze on his arm. 

Kenma glances over to see Kuroo looking directly at him, that reassuring half smile on his face and an all-too-familiar warmth in his eyes. Kenma exhales slowly.  _ I can do this. For Keiji, if nothing else.  _ He gives Kuroo a little smile in response, a reassurance, but even with this small reassurance, Kuroo doesn’t take his eyes off of him. 

Not even when they finally reach the bottom of the stairs and stand next to where Bokuto and Akaashi are meant to be, not even when Bokuto and Akaashi make their way down the aisle, not even when Bokuto and Akaashi begin to recite their vows. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. “The first time I laid eyes on you, I thought that you were a star. In the time since then, as I’ve gotten to know you, that thought has yet to change. In fact, you have become even more brilliant. You exude light in everything that you do. You make the world around you a better place, and I am blessed to be able to bask in your warmth. I promise to cherish and love you every day that I am alive. And so I do take you as my husband… Koutarou.”

Bokuto looks as though he’s about to keel over, though whether it’s because of Akaashi’s sappy vows or uncommon use of his first name Kenma’s not sure. It reminds Kenma of how Kuroo used to react when Kenma would call  _ him  _ by his first name. That thought sends pain like a lightning bolt down Kenma’s spine, and he quickly looks away.

Finally, Bokuto speaks. “‘Kaashi. I— It’s hard for me to express myself at stuff like this, because I’m not the best at words. But you mean more to me than words can ever say. Like, you’ve been here for me through it all, through the ups and the downs, and you make me so happy! Even just being around you is perfect. I want to be with you all the time, forever, and I love you so much. I take you as my husband too, Keiji.”

It’s too warm, too sweet. Kenma looks away as they kiss. He might never have a love like that. 

But Kuroo is still looking at him. 

Kenma doesn’t want to read too much into it, so he ignores it. He follows Bokuto and Akaashi to their reception. He makes a short, obligatory speech. Even reading off a notecard, his voice trembles, and he hates every moment of it. Hinata, to his credit, hoots and hollers in the audience to cheer him on.  _ At least there’s that _ , he thinks.

But finally, after his speech is over, Kenma is allowed to go and load up a plate full of food—mostly cake and sweets, but still. And then he’s allowed to go sit at a table and brood. He watches Bokuto and Akaashi’s first dance. They’re leaned close together, matching smiles on both their faces, as though they’re existing in a world all their own. Kenma’s happy for them, but he still hates it. 

Then, all of a sudden, someone’s in front of him, extending an arm towards him. “Can I have this dance?”

Kenma stares up at Kuroo. The expression on Kuroo’s face is oddly sincere, but Kenma can’t help the suspicion in the back of his mind. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“Just one dance,” Kuroo says, and then, “It’ll look weird if we don’t do one dance together as the two best men. Besides, everyone’s looking at us weird already.”

_ Ugh.  _ It never fails to unnerve Kenma just how well Kuroo knows him. But he gives in reluctantly, letting Kuroo lead him to the dance floor. Kuroo’s arm burns where it winds around his back. Kenma inhales deeply.  _ Just get through this,  _ he reminds himself.  _ Just a few minutes of pain. _

They’re silent for a few moments. Kenma very determinedly does not look at Kuroo, choosing instead to fixate his gaze on the tile floor. But then, finally, Kuroo breaks the silence by saying, “I’m sorry.”

“....what?” God, of all the things Kenma had imagined Kuroo would say in a situation like this, that had never been one of them. So he repeats, “What are you sorry for?”

“Everything,” Kuroo says, and Kenma is about to berate him for being so vague when he continues. “You were right, Kenma. You were so right. I was burning out, and I didn’t want to admit it to anyone. I didn’t want you to think of me as weak. I didn’t want to burden you with my shit. I let you walk out because I figured you’d be better off without me. I thought pushing you away was the way to make things better, but I… I’ve regretted it every day since, and I…”

Kenma feels like he’s been doused in cold water, like he’s been sinking under the waves and finally coming up for air. Somehow, he manages to sputter out, “You’re an idiot.”

Kuroo chuckles nervously. “I mean, that’s a given, but…”

“But what the hell?!” Kenma demands. “Why didn’t you tell me this a year ago?”

“I thought you hated me,” Kuroo says.

“I mean, I did,” Kenma says. “But only because you were my ex. I thought you were tired of me or fell out of love with me or something.” 

“No,” Kuroo says vehemently. His hand suddenly tenses on Kenma’s back, and he pulls Kenma slightly closer. “I… I never stopped loving you. I never have, and I never will.”

It’s all Kenma’s wanted to hear for the better part of a year. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his head on Kuroo’s chest. “I hate you,” he murmurs against Kuroo’s heart. “Let’s never do that again.”

Kuroo makes a strangled sound from above him. “You mean… you want to be with me again?”

“I’ll consider it,” Kenma says, “if you promise to just talk to me next time. And you owe me to make up for all the shit you put me through this past year.”

“I’ll get on it right away,” Kuroo murmurs, his lips pressed to the top of Kenma’s head. Kenma holds on a little tighter, too aware now of how quickly it can all slip away. As they twirl around the dance floor, Kenma’s eyes fall on Akaashi.

Akaashi’s staring at them. The look on his face is that of pure smugness.  _ He’d planned all of this, the sick bastard,  _ Kenma thinks. He uses his hand that’s behind Kuroo’s back to flip off Akaashi. 

Akaashi just smiles back. Kenma sighs and decides it doesn’t matter.

In the end, it had brought him back to Kuroo.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!!!  
> I really wanted to write a Kuroken exes fic, so when I stepped in to pinch hit for the Kuroken Christmas Exchange, I couldn't resist the opportunity!! This fic is for the lovely Luna - Luna, I hope you enjoy this and I'm so sorry it's so belated!  
> Special shoutout to Mars for beta reading for me also <3


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